Elana woke feeling lighter, her body wrapped in the comfort of rich cotton sheets.
As she sat up, faint voices and the distant sound of horses drifted through the air.
The familiar scent around her reminded her exactly where she was.
Lumere.
"Good morning," a woman's voice said.
Elana startled. Someone was in the room?
"G-goodmorning," she replied cautiously.
"I am Vivianne," the woman introduced, making no effort to hide the condescension in her tone.
"Your lady-in-waiting."
"I'm Elana." She hesitated, surprised she had been assigned someone to tend to her in Lumere—the land where she had once been nothing more than a slave.
"I know who you are," Vivianne replied, her voice sharpening. "A mere slave and a traitor to this kingdom."
Elana's heart skipped at Vivianne's words as they aggressively reminded her about the reality of her situation—Azael's threat to the kingdom.
"Then you do not need to wait on me," Elana said quietly, lowering her feet to the floor. "I can manage on my own."
"Honestly, I would prefer that," Vivianne replied coolly. "But I'm here on the king's orders. So you will accept my service."
Elana paused, carefully measuring her response.
She was tired—body and soul—worn thin by how her freedom was always bartered, always conditional.
The cruelest part was that she had allowed herself to hope. To imagine a life of choice, to live like normal girls. Of trust…perhaps even love.
Yet here she stood again in the land that had branded her a slave from birth—protected by the very man who dominated her because of it
"P-please," she whispered, her tongue heavy with pain. "I insist."
Vivianne scoffed. "Do not grow comfortable. Lumere will endure these trials. And traitors like you will pay in full."
Her footsteps retreated before Elana heard the door shut.
Silence followed.
She rose on unsteady legs, stretching her hands forward—the only way a girl who saw the world in shades of grey could navigate it.
With every step, her heart got heavier, her lips trembling.
If past lives existed, perhaps she had been cruel in hers.
To be tossed so carelessly by fate. To belong to no one—yet bound to anyone she chose to care for.
Her palm met the smooth surface of another door.
Then her knees gave way under the weight of her thoughts.
She slid to the floor beside it, tears falling with her.
Would it not have been easier if she had died?
Her sobs broke free as Azael's arms flooded her memory—the icy warmth of him, his scent.
Her body already aching for the comfort she despised wanting.
He was the storm she could never outrun.
Not just because he held her captive in the world.
But because he held her captive within herself.
**
Dried leaves cracked beneath Thorne's boots as he moved through the forest clearing, eyes fixed on the two motorcars stationed there.
Moonlight gleamed off their dull green metal and half-raised windows.
Poorly manufactured but sturdy for transportation.
The doors stood open.
No sign of their owners.
"They're from Sirence," Evren's voice said from behind one of the vehicles. "Car plate numbers authorized with our stamp,"
The brooding in his voice now heavier.
"What troubles you?" Thorne asked, already knowing.
"I thought we shared the same unspoken thoughts," Evren replied, now clenching his jaw visibly.
"About the girl Lord Azael favors?" Thorne asked, even if he knew Evren's reply.
"I would not advise he trusts her," Evren said. "People like her tend to be opportunistic."
Thorne peered into one of the cars, careful not to disturb anything. Tobacco and stale beer lingered faintly in the air.
"You traced her background?"
"She is nothing but a slave," Evren replied tightly. "The only noble thing about her is the household she served."
Thorne's gaze dropped to the sand behind the first set of tires, studying the trail.
"I'm certain he knows exactly who she is," he said calmly. "As well as what she intends."
"A vampire is a man, Thorne," Evren replied. "She is beautiful but can also be an effective trap given that she's a literal damsel in distress."
Thorne chuckled as he crouched lower, examining a different tire pattern reversing behind the second vehicle.
"Have you ever seen a trap trying not to be one?" he asked quietly.
Evren exhaled. "I suppose I forgot how deeply Azael covets her,"
"Exactly."
Thorne rose to face Evren who was still more brooding than observing.
"There was a third of one of these. Once the soldiers arrive, these two will be towed back to Sirence. Then we investigate inside the city."
"You believe Caesar is in Sirence?" Evren frowned. "That might be unlikely."
"Perhaps not him," Thorne replied. "But those who aided him. There are routes out of Sirence that even all our oldest soldiers do not know. We do. But we do not move in daylight. Caesar knows that too."
Evren scoffed, "When this is over, I'll kill Zane myself. His audacity infuriates me."
"The truth," Thorne said evenly, "we were distracted as well."
Their eyes met.
Both thinking of Diana.
Their addiction to her stubborn display of pleasure.
Thorne sighed. "A vampire is indeed still a man, brother."
**
"You're fast becoming a burden, Eira," Fen said, watching her stand amongst his wolves.
"I should not have relied on a human," she replied, avoiding his gaze. "But it was the only way to lure Elana to you without Azael discovering it."
"And now that your logic has failed you," Fen said lightly, "What use are you to me?"
Her eyes snapped up.
The wolves snarled louder as the sharp scent of her rising fear reached his nose.
Fen smiled faintly, he could also tell Eira was desperate.
She could flee him.
But she could not escape her creator.
Not Azael.
She was trapped, knowing Fen could expose her as the mastermind behind Elana's escape…and Trisha's death.
"Elana's in Lumere—"
"I know she is in Lumere." Fen interrupted, his smile widening as he enjoyed her frustration.
Eira's posture faltered. "What do you want?"
Fen laughed.
"Your proximity to Azael no longer interests me. It clearly belongs to the pretty ginger."
Her fists clenched, swallowing as she absorbed Fen's cold jab.
"You…already have a plan."
His laughter stopped abruptly.
"As of now, Eira, you answer to me. You ask no questions. Unless you prefer answering to Azael."
Her head lowered.
"Yes, Fen."
Very soon, she would fear him more than she feared Azael's wrath.